The Sixth Day of May

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Yesterday on our walk home from voting in the provincial election I took this really bad phone photo of a beautiful tree covered in white blossoms. What happened to those flowers? At least you can see how green everything is. Or was. I will get to that.

Then I look a VIDEO of some yellow and red tulips. You will have to trust me when I tell you they were lovely. But they just stood there doing nothing, so the video was boring and I deleted it. Stupid phone with its little buttons.

The election results last night were surprising, to say the least, but very, very gratifying for the gazillions of people who have voted ‘other than P.C.’ for years and years with no hope in hell of changing anything. And yeah, that would include me. The Conservatives did not even make official opposition, and the NDP party has a majority. We were so over due for a change. Let’s hope it’s a good one.

Well before Christmas last year W took his truck to a guy who does body work to have his rusted fenders and things worked on. Obviously I’m fuzzy on the details. What I do know is that he was told to take his time, keep it as long as he wanted, there was no hurry to get it done. Six months later we finally have the truck back and W can stop driving my car.

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This is our garage yesterday, with a big empty space on the left where the truck parks. W is out driving it somewhere. And there’s my car, barricaded behind many heavy things. It’s so wonderful to have it all to myself again.  What the hell??

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And this! THIS is this morning, taken from my kitchen window, because I’m not going out in THIS. It started snowing around midnight and hasn’t stopped. Yep, we often get snow in May. It will all be gone in a day or two, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying. I wonder how those tulips are doing.

And W has gone off to his appointment to get the summer tires put on his truck.

Gawd I love this place.

Leaving

boarding the train

 

Winter seemed reluctant to release its hold.  There was nothing green yet anywhere I looked, and the air stayed cold until well past mid day.  Sometimes the sun would break through the grey mist with a half-hearted attempt at cheering up the sad and dismal countryside , but all that brown was discouraging,  and day after day it seemed to simply give up without a fight.

No, come back!  I wanted to shout at it.  Try harder.  Winter is an asshole, you can make it go away.  But the sun doesn’t listen to anyone.

Those last few bleak days I spent hesitantly preparing to leave, because I was reluctant too.  Remiss to walk away from a life that had become impossible, but which remained, in spite of everything, still strangely comforting in its familiarity.   Afraid, wary, hanging back,  I kept searching for one good reason not to go.  There were reasons, but in the end,  none of them were good enough.

A shrill whistle sounded in the distance and the tracks grumbled and shook as a numbing north wind whipped stray locks of hair across my face and into my eyes, some of the long strands sticking to the tears that kept stubbornly falling no matter how many times I brushed them away.  My ticket to freedom was crushed and broken in one clenched fist.   The other one dragged my heavy bag across the platform.   And then I boarded the southbound train.  With all my might and resolve I resisted the backward pull and in my head I wiped the slate clean.

I felt as stubborn as the sun.  Strong and steady and enduring.   Soon I’d be ready to shine again.

The Speakeasy at Yeah Write # 157 – include the following sentence as the FIRST line in your submission: “Winter seemed reluctant to release its hold.”

Effective Interpretive Dance

IMG_0178I can’t say from personal experience that this works, but I’m going to keep the option in mind.  Being cross-eyed and green probably helps too.  This guy has a lot going for him.

Yesterday a very nice lady asked me what lenses she could purchase for her glasses to enable her to see across the room in dim light.  She did not want to hear that there is no such thing and that we did not have magical optical solutions for this particular problem.  Try brighter light bulbs.  Or a miners hat.  Or get off your ass and go closer to whatever it is you’re trying to see in the dark. I didn’t say any of these things out loud but I’m working on my dance moves to get this kind of message across.

Perhaps I will be retiring sooner than I think.

Not Your Average Hot Spring

Trifecta: this weekend’s prompt.

As you know, Trifecta has a history of dedicating the
entire month of October to Halloween. We’re kicking it off early and easy with
this prompt:

You’ve found some old books. On page 3 of one of the books,
this illustration appears.

Give us the 33 words that follow this illustration. What happens
next?

swamp_illustration

Well?

DID IT WORK??

Harry checked the brochure.

All tension and worry washed away, it said.

Mind and body relaxed, muscles soothed.

Detoxified.  Blemish free.

Turned you swamp green, Gordie!

So……

Hell YEAH!

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trifecta button

I have missed the deadline for this prompt and the challenge is closed so I can’t link up, (yes I am a procrastinating idiot) but I’m posting it purely for my own amusement anyway.  Cuz I really like the picture.

Something in the Air

Woman sneezing

Woman sneezing (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have good news and bad news.  The good news is:

1.  There’s green grass here.  Really!  I saw some.

2.  The snow has all but disappeared where I live.  All that’s left is what remains of our backyard snow mountain.  And it’s looking pretty pathetic.

3.  Today it rained!  You might even say poured!  For roughly  45 seconds.  Hey, it’s a start.

4.  The wind picked up and blew stuff everywhere.  Sorry,  I can’t remember why I think that’s good news.

5. I now have two days off in a row.  Be still my heart.

Spring-ing

Spring-ing (Photo credit: mountain_doo2)

 

 

The bad news is:

1.  My eyes are itchy and weepy.

2.  My sinuses are giving me grief and we will soon be out of kleenex if this keeps up.

3.  I am trying to sneeze my face off.

4.  My throat feels all scratchy.

5.  Snow mold is brutal.

It seems like such a shame to have to close all the windows when the weather is finally getting nice.  I go through this to some degree every spring.  I look a mess for several days and then suddenly, as fast as it comes, it goes.

Allergic rhinitis – harbinger of spring.  I would prefer birds, actually.  But whatever heralds spring this year is fine with me – I’ll take it and be glad.

 

 

A Songbird for St. Patricks Day

Green beer on St. Patrick's Day

Green beer on St. Patrick’s Day (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sunday, beautiful Sunday.  After six days of work, I get to rest on the seventh. Today there will be no talk of the weather.  Oh, except for this – W flew off to BC yesterday and sent me the following text:

Made it okay.  Beautiful here!  No snow, green grass!

Men can be so heartless and cruel.  I sent him a text back suggesting he buy us a house there. I hope he gets rained on. And then I hope the rain heads east and some green things happen here at last.

My grandfather on my mother’s side of the family had roots in Ireland, so I always think of him on the 17th of March.  I don’t think you have to be Irish to celebrate St. Patrick’s day, you just have to be okay with green beer.

As so often happens when I spend time on YouTube looking for something specific (in today’s case Irish or Celtic music) I get completely sidetracked to the point where it’s like that degrees of separation game and even I can’t remember what brought me to wherever I ended up.  Which at this particular moment in time would be with Chris de Burgh.

Chris de Burgh (born Christopher John Davison, 15 October 1948) is an Argentinian born British-Irish singer-songwriter. He is most famous for his 1986 love song “The Lady in Red“, which reached number-one in Belgium, Canada, Ireland, Norway, and the United Kingdom.  (Wikipedia)

Too bad he didn’t sing Lady in Green;  but this song is close enough.  It’s a lovely tribute to Eva Cassidy.  Hope it doesn’t make you cry in your Irish beer.

 

I heard a voice so pure and easy, a songbird singing for me,
I had no choice, only to listen, and surrender to her world;
And she will fly over the rainbow,
She will walk in fields of gold,
And when she sings from the high walls of Heaven,
Will the angels cry like me?

At first alone, then with hundreds around me,
Enchanted by her song,
But as the day is done, and the darkness is falling,
The songbird sings no more;

And now she flies over the rainbow,
And she walks in fields of gold,
And when she sings from the high walls of Heaven,
Will the angels cry like me?

And when she sings from the high walls of Heaven,
Will the angels cry like me, will the angels cry like me?

It’s Never Too Early (or Too Late) for Christmas Cheer

Christmas in the post-War United States

Christmas in the post-War United States (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What a long day this has been – and it’s not over yet.  Not until I’ve finished my mug of Christmas Cheer.  I’m rewarding myself for making poor choices.  I decided tonight would be a good time to pick up some stocking stuffers, after working until 8:00 p.m. Most sane people would have headed home by then, wouldn’t you think?  It is now going on eleven o’clock.  I’ve been out there mingling with the crazies.

Actually it’s nobodys fault but my own for taking so long.  I have a really hard time making up my mind about things, as if the fate of the world rests on my decisions.  As long as there’s something funny and something to rot their teeth, kids are generally happy with whatever they get.  I know that.  But it doesn’t stop me from agonizing over things like tooth-brush colors.  Because God Forbid someone should get a green one when they prefer purple.

Even though they come in only one color, I hope no one is going to ask me for a hippopotamus this year.  I’d gladly sing the song for them though.  This has been one of my favourite Christmas songs forever.  No Christmas is complete without hearing it at least once, preferably by someone other than yours truly.  Enjoy.